


Field Journalism

by Byacolate



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Non-Pathfinder Ryder, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 11:44:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10490181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate
Summary: The harrowing journey of a failed academic, a hopeless romantic, and some freeze dried papaya.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a big sap, so it follows that there'd be an AU where Jaal and Ryder get on like a house on fire even though he isn't a Pathfinder. Tumblr user goddamnbees is fully responsible for the title. Endgame, main quest, and Jaal romance spoilers.

The Pathfinder's arms are folded behind her head as she gazes up at the stars far, far above the Eos atmosphere. Jaal still doesn't fully understand the point of building outposts if one intends to sleep in the wilderness like a common animal, but there's a lot he doesn't understand about aliens. Vetra's fond exasperation toward the decision suggests that this is a specifically human oddity.

 

"My brother would kill for this view," the Pathfinder sighs. "He loves this sort of thing."

 

"Stars, from a distance?" Vetra asks. The Pathfinder snickers.

 

"Stars from a distance."

 

It isn't the first time she's spoken of her brother, and it won't be the last. Jaal understands. Affection and ridicule are a sibling's purview.

 

"You have traveled a very long way to appreciate the universe from the ground," Jaal observes. He assumes he has not overstepped, and if he has, well... the Pathfinder normally finds it amusing.

 

"Tell that to my brother. Loves getting his hands on good ol' terra firma, you know? Real science nerd." A word doesn't translate well - through context, the database suggests a mildly derogatory term for people who take pleasure in scholarly pursuits. It would not apply to him, then. Jaal was never truly an academic by nature, but he has always admired those who are.

 

He can hear from her tone of voice the clear twist of her expression. "He wouldn't appreciate being stuck on the Hyperion while I'm out here throwing scientists at all these planets. Ugh, I'll get an earful when he wakes up. Or worse - he'll be _understanding."_

 

"That's worse?" Jaal inquires. The Pathfinder groans.

 

"He gets those eyes, and it's like... like I've kicked a puppy. In the heart."

 

"Puppy...?" Another translation error, but no matter. Context is sufficient.

 

"He's safe," Vetra says, checking the shields one last time before reclining on her bedroll between Jaal and the Pathfinder. "That's enough."

 

"For now. When he's done with his nap, well... let's just say we'll be taking some guilt-induced joyrides."

 

"Could always use a vacation," Vetra sighs, drawing soft laughter from Jaal. He can't imagine the Pathfinder feeling terribly remorseful about anything, but family can change a person.

 

They fall silent shortly thereafter and Jaal does not dwell on it. Overmuch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Nexus is a bustling hub of activity as always, which, Jaal supposes, is preferable to the alternative. He does not always explore when they dock; depending on his mood, he will occasionally forego the inevitable stares and whispers. He thinks perhaps he would not feel so unnerved by the attention if they did not speak their true thoughts so quietly.

 

Today he is in a mood to endure, because today is momentous for his dear friend, and she has need of him.

 

Well... perhaps not a _need._ Rather, a desire for his company, or the services he is willing to provide.

 

"Oh... shit!" Her quiet curse stays their progress toward the medical wing.

 

"What is it?" Vetra asks, dropping her hand to the Pathfinder's shoulder. She meets quiet concern with a grimace.

 

"I jumped the goddamn gun, is what." She runs a hand through her hair, glancing over her shoulder at the shuttle behind them. "I was so eager to get down here as soon as I got the message, I forgot to double back toward the ship for the flowers."

 

Jaal knows the ones. Aboard the Tempest lies a small cryo chamber - a "fridge" - within which is contained a bright bouquet flowers native to Havarl. The Pathfinder had found them in the marketplace in Aya (within the vendor stalls and plucked from tidily kept boxes around the city with what she probably regards as stealth) for precisely this occasion.

 

Jaal is no errand boy, but he has a healthy respect for family reunions and the sanctity of homecoming. And for the Pathfinder, it is the least he can do. He nods toward the open door of the medical bay. "I will retrieve them."

 

The Pathfinder brightens and knocks her fist against his shoulder. "You're the best, Jaal."

 

"Yes, I know."

 

He returns not half an hour later with an armful of blossoms native to home, and he's greeted by a young human of legend. Minor legend. The Pathfinder's legend, for what that's worth, which is subjective at best. A pair of bright eyes lift from his doting sister, and Jaal isn't sure whether they're caught first by soft violet petals, or him.

 

The Pathfinder follows his gaze and smiles with her whole face. "Baby brother, this is Jaal. I told you all about him while you were hibernating."

 

The younger Ryder nods, and lifts a hand though the motion clearly taxes him.

 

"Hello," he croaks.

 

"Hello," Jaal returns, with all the warmth deserving of someone beloved by the Pathfinder. The very same Pathfinder who smirks and presses a half-empty bottle of water into her brother's hands. He hastily uncaps it and drinks, the apples of his cheeks darkening. Then he clears his throat.

 

"It's nice to meet you," he tries again. He hasn't lubricated his vocal chords in six-hundred years, and then some. His lips twist in a grimace at the reedy sound of his own voice.

 

"And you," Jaal says, and remembers himself. He holds out the Pathfinder's bouquet, settling it in Ryder's lap so as not to test his recovering strength. "These are for you," he says, straightening again. "From your sister."

 

"For the record," she says, reaching up to fiddle with her brother's hair, "this is a _much_ nicer reception than Jaal gave me."

 

"Hmh. You wanted our vault, not flowers."

 

The Pathfinder grins. "See what I mean?"

 

It is only then that Jaal notes Vetra's absence. He wonders if the Ryder twins desired privacy for their reunion. If they still do.

 

Neither appear particularly disturbed by his presence. Softly and with great care, the younger Ryder draws a finger along the silken violet cup of a petal. He lifts his eyes with a tired smile toward Jaal. "My sister is a notoriously poor judge of character."

 

Amusement curls in Jaal's chest and bubbles up into quiet laughter, drowned out by the Pathfinder's protests.

 

Jaal excuses himself not long after, and returns to the ship, rather light on his feet.

 

 

 

  


 

 

 

They introduce him to the Tempest with far more graciousness than they showed Jaal, which is to be expected; if not simply for virtue of his species, then because the Pathfinder's tales have made him family of a sort. Even without his presence, he's been woven into the Tempest's tapestry. It is a sentiment Jaal shares.

 

He receives Ryder at his room on board as though he were a visiting dignitary. Everything's been tidied, so as to remove all obstacles for Ryder's recovering equilibrium. With a moment to themselves, Ryder asks many questions - maybe even more than his sister had, once - about Jaal's projects, the nature of his work, his life aboard an effort like the Initiative.

 

"He is... very inquisitive," he tells the Pathfinder after she's bullied her brother back to the Hyperion for rest. "And so polite. He never once asked about my physiology or religion, if you can believe it."

 

"Sounds boring," she sniffs. "And don't get cocky; he's way worse than me, so now that he's had a taste of the angaran enigma wrapped in a mystery swaddled in a poncho -"

 

"Rofjinn. I am willing to bet that he would remember the term."

 

"Gambling is a serious addiction, Jaal. Good idiom though. Liam's been doing his job. And don't change the subject."

 

He glances toward the door. "If that was my intention, I would escort you out."

 

"The point is..." She leans back, folding her arms over her chest. "My brother is a menace of curiosity. You'll be sorry you're so goddamn pleasant to talk to when he won't leave you alone."

 

"I cannot see why that would be so," Jaal says lightly. "His company is entirely welcome. I admire his scientific mind."

 

A strange look crosses her face that Cora often calls _crafty_. "That's what you admire, huh?"

 

"Yes. Among other things."

 

The Pathfinder fashions her fingers in poor mimicry of a pair of pistols as she backs out the door. "We'll be revisiting this subject later, my friend."

 

"I do not doubt it," he snorts, waving her off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jaal has a gift for Ryder, too.

 

No ornamental daggers or poetry - at least, not yet. And no Rofjinn, though he has heavily considered it if only to reward Ryder for committing its proper name to memory. No, for Ryder, he has something a little different in mind.

 

"To welcome you to Andromeda," Jaal says, approaching Ryder several standard Earth weeks after his first trip aboard the Tempest. A brief excursion to Voeld had separated the Ryder twins only as long as it took to settle a dispute with the scientists. Jaal finds he was nearly as eager to return as the Pathfinder, and extends a hand to proffer the origin of his excitement toward Ryder. "Though it is... belated."

 

He has it on good authority that the Tavum is fresh, made from the last cycle's harvest. Ryder regards the bottle curiously, his eyes skimming over the translation from Shelesh.

 

"It is safe for human consumption," Jaal says, earnest, "and your sister suffered no allergic reactions, so it was assumed that you would fare just as well."

 

"Thank you, Jaal, but the flowers you brought me when we met were very nice." He turns a quizzical smile toward Jaal, who returns it easily.

 

"Yes," he agrees, "but they were not from me."

 

Nodding absently, Ryder examines Jaal's gift. "I love the shape of the bottle," he says, leaning against Jaal's workbench.

 

"I trust you've cleared imbibing intoxicants with one of your physicians," Jaal prompts, and Ryder offers a wry grin so similar to his sister's it's comical.

 

"Something like that. Jaal, is this... significant to drink? That is, is it meant to be saved for special occasions?"

 

Jaal dips his head in consideration. "Not necessarily, but... as in most aspects of our culture, it is meant to be enjoyed among company."

 

Lifting the bottle up to the orange glow of Jaal's projections, he gives it a little shake. _"You're_ company."

 

So they drink. Or, Jaal partakes minimally, careful to keep Ryder's glass full as foot traffic carries on beyond his open door. At Jaal's request, Ryder drums up several anecdotal memories about the Pathfinder - their personal history, their childhood together, wild escapades of their youth. Some, Jaal is already familiar with.

 

"Your sister spoke of you often," he says. Ryder grimaces, and Jaal makes no attempts to stifle his amusement.

 

"Did she make me sound unbearable?"

 

Laughter rumbles through Jaal like a storm before he leans in. "At times. But that is how I knew I would like you."

 

Ryder gives him a strange look before it melts into a smile that he ducks his head to conceal. "You've been very kind to me, you know. Even though we're mostly strangers."

 

"I would not call us strangers," Jaal muses, cocking his head to the side just enough to catch Ryder's eye. "Your sister spoke of you so often that I feel we are well acquainted."

 

"I suppose I could say the same," Ryder murmurs, sipping thoughtfully at his Tavum. "While I was... hibernating... she would visit, sometimes. Tell me all about her colorful new friends. It's funny, she'd always call you a bitchy pink rebel poet." Pressing the glass to his bottom lip, he leans in to mirror Jaal's posture. "That's how _I_   knew I'd like _you."_

 

They do not manage to finish the Tavum before Ryder must be escorted off the ship. Jaal is sure to seal it and send it off with him for another time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To: Jaal

From: Baby Ryder

 

In physical therapy earlier today I remembered another story you might like, which branched off into several more as the day progressed. I made sure to jot some keywords down in  list form, which I've attached here. I'll be happy to regale them the next time you dock. Don't let me forget!

 

R

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To: Ryder

From: Jaal

 

I would be remiss to waste such an opportunity. I am particularly intrigued by 'a cornucopia of Bad' and 'the avocado mask fiasco'. What is an avocado? You will have much to explain, and I am eager to absorb everything.

 

Also, are you aware that your message was sent from "Baby Ryder"?

 

Your friend,

Jaal Ama Darav

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To: Jaal

From: Baby Ryder

 

Yeah... my sister's SAM overrode my personal signature and I can't switch it back. A clear abuse of power, don't you think? I don't suppose you'd be interested in helping me get a little payback...?

 

From one hopeful little brother to another,

R

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To: Ryder

From: Jaal

 

My attention is yours. I have attached the code for my secure channel. What did you have in mind?

 

Your co-conspirator,

Jaal

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To: Jaal

From: The Pootflounder

 

I don't know how you hacked it, but this is funny as hell. There's nothing like middle school humor to stick it to a girl.

 

It's also highly unprofessional. Thought you should have at least one email for posterity before SAM switches it back.

 

Bet I can guess who put you up to this. Where's your loyalty, ya big Judas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To:  Pathfinder Ryder

From: Jaal

 

My translator is malfunctioning. Suddenly I cannot read.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They smuggle him aboard in what passes for 'the dead of night' on the Nexus. True to form with the Pathfinder, the mission manages to be considered covert even with the extreme fanfare applied. She calls a meeting and everything, deems it "life or death" which Cora assures him is purely hyperbolic.

 

Lexi hardly approves, and she's sure to alert her colleague aboard the Hyperion the moment the charade is underway, but there's no true cause for concern. If Ryder was at risk, the Pathfinder wouldn't take him from the safety of the Nexus.

 

Jaal plays along because Vetra shouldn't be left to shepherd Peebee and the Pathfinder alone, and... well, it's fun. Whatever their reasons, the decision for Jaal to be the one to escort - _smuggle_ \- Ryder through the Nexus is unanimous. Jaal has no complaints.

 

When he finds Ryder by the shuttle, he's met with surprise, quickly followed by delight.

 

"So you're my rescuer," Ryder says, rolling up the sleeves of a suit far lighter and more casual than the one Jaal is used to seeing on him. "I was expecting someone a little more my-sister-ish."

 

"Hmh." Jaal looks down a himself. "I'm afraid I am not very much like your sister. Disregarding this flaw, will I suffice? I am, as you say, up to the task."

 

The corners of Ryder's eyes crease with his good humor. "You _are_ pretty dashing. I have no complaints."

 

"Good. Now." He gestures toward the docking bay, and Ryder leads the way.

 

The Pathfinder and Peebee are busy amusing themselves under Vetra's supervision with "covert OPs tactics" sweeping Ryder's temporary apartment of his personal effects. From the hall to the right, the Pathfinder winks and salutes them both with a rucksack slung over her shoulder. Jaal and Ryder cut a much more casual picture, strolling across the quad in the direction of the Tempest.

 

"Does she want to be caught?" Jaal asks, watching Ryder tuck a loose thread under his sleeve.

 

"Without question." Ryder glances up at him. "If she isn't being scolded for misconduct, it's all a waste."

 

"Well." Jaal thumps Ryder's elbow with his knuckles. "I would not call it _all_ a waste. You're here, aren't you?"

 

Ryder rubs his wrist, peering up at Jaal from the corner of his eye. "You know, it's funny... I could say the same about you."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They don't get caught until they're halfway to Elaaden. The email from Doctor Carlyle is short, concise in his admonishments, and overall mildly amused by the charade.

 

"No more than a slap in the wrist," Ryder muses, tapping over Jaal's specs in his quarters. "My poor sister."

 

"There was no physical - ah. An idiom."

 

"An idiom regarding an idiot."

 

"Tasteless," Jaal chides, and Ryder presses a smile to his knuckles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To: Jaal

From: Ryder

 

I know I'm only downstairs, but Peebee's always poking her nose into your room, and GUARANTEED at least five people are tapped into on-board comm links at all times, but I'm pretty sure only Gil hacks the emails. You wouldn't believe how well 600-year-old freeze-dried papaya keeps in a hidden chest pocket in cryo. Earth fruit: sweet, mild, pinkish-orange. Interested?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To: Ryder

From: Jaal

 

Immeasurably. My door is unlocked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To: Ryder, Jaal

From: Gil

 

You're both lucky I never liked papaya anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"...So what you're telling me is... Jaal was unfriendly?" Ryder raises an eyebrow. _"Jaal._ As in, Ama Darav."

 

"Oh yeah," Liam laughs, knocking Ryder in the shoulder with his fist. The room he's fashioned for recreation is cozy for so many people, but Jaal is entirely comfortable with the arrangement. As long as he doesn't have to take the couch. "You really got the royal treatment. Should've seen Jaal when he first got on board. Prickly son of a bitch. We really softened him up for you."

 

"You were all dicks," the Pathfinder points out, kicking her feet up in Peebee's lap, who cheerfully shoves them off. But she's watching Jaal - they all are, as if he's going to dispute it. He tilts his chin up before turning his eyes to Ryder.

 

"Why not? His company is pleasant. I like when he is near." He glances at Liam. "And you were all... dicks. I have no reason to be, ah... pointy with him."

 

"Prickly," Liam and the Pathfinder correct in unison. Peebee smirks.

 

"Y'know, don't think there'd be an error in translation there if he'd said there _was_ a reason to be pointy with him."

 

"Oh my god," Ryder mutters, taking a deep swig of his Tavum.

 

"Ah, perhaps you should take that slowly," Jaal suggests. Peebee leers.

 

 _"That_ translates pretty well too."

 

"Do you have any more of this, Jaal?" Ryder cups both hands around his glass. "I'm going to need more."

 

This, for some reason, has Peebee doubling over with wild cackles. It's almost like the others are sharing in a joke at the expense of... well, Ryder and himself. They are the only two not laughing. Ryder drinks, and Jaal contemplates the subtler nuances of language to...

 

... Oh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

True to the Pathfinder's words from so long ago, Ryder loves Eos. He loves what they've accomplished there - what they _could_ accomplish. The new frontier for scientific discovery. The good people of Prodromos and their efforts.

 

"Shit," the Pathfinder grumbles, watching Ryder familiarize himself with Bradley from a distance. She nudges Jaal with her elbow where they lean against the hood of the Nomad. "Hey. Jaal."

 

"Pathfinder."

 

"Help me think of something, quick. You know a lot of ner- uh, scientifically-minded individuals. What can we do that would appeal? Overwhelmingly?"

 

Jaal snorts. "You want incentive for your brother, to keep him by your side."

 

"Maybe! Some of us just have the one, you know."

 

He nods toward Ryder, who is... getting along well with Bradley. Alarmingly well. "Tell him you want to keep him close."

 

"Ugh. Of course you'd say that." She pitches her voice low and knits her brow. "'Use your words, Pathfinder. Why can't you be more angaran about your feelings?' Hey... there's an idea..."

 

"Was that supposed to be me?" Jaal asks as she pushes herself off of the Nomad and turns to face him.

 

"You could convince him! Be my incentive."

 

Jaal stares at her down the bridge of his nose. "No," he says. Then, "Why?" Then, "... Do you think that would suffice?"

 

A smirk crosses her face. "Without a doubt."

 

"Truly?"

 

She brings both hand down on his shoulders. "I'm kind of your boss, right? Consider it a direct order."

 

"You are not." He glances over her head at Ryder, who gestures toward the advanced turret systems on Prodromos. "But... as in most things, we may use this opportunity to reach a common goal."

 

"However you have to sell it to yourself." She pats his shoulders again. Liam pokes his head out of the Nomad's skylight.

 

"Did anyone one tell you you two have serious problems? Just relating to people in general?"

 

"No," they respond, quite unfortunately, in unison. The quirk of Liam's mouth reads smugness. Skkutting bastard.

 

Regardless, Jaal finds himself seeking Ryder in his quarters aboard the Tempest when the day is done - the wide room that once belonged to the Pathfinder, happily relinquished in favor of Vetra's armory. He's gazing out the window toward the wild dark plains of Eos, hand pressed against the glass. When Jaal enters he looks up and turns, hand falling to his side. "Jaal. Feeling restless?"

 

"Restless?" Jaal allows the door to slip quietly shut behind him as he walks further in. "Not really. Why do you ask?"

 

Ryder glances back at the window. "We've been docked for two days now. I know some of you are crawling up the walls to be grounded so long."

 

"Your sister?" Jaal muses, wandering closer. Ryder's laughter is dry, but fond.

 

"The least of my concerns. You know, I actually saw Kallo glare a plant to death today?"

 

Jaal ducks his head to laugh as he comes to stand by Ryder's side. "An exaggeration."

 

"It's really not." But he's smiling a familiar private smile that sets Jaal's heart at ease.

 

He watches Ryder's reflection in the glass - thoughtful, young. He meets Jaal's eyes, lit only by the dim glow of the cabin. Eos beyond the window is dark, the moon behind them, lit only by distant stars. Something about this moment feels... hushed. A brittle stasis of calm. But maybe he's projecting

 

"I was asked to convince you to stay here. With us," Jaal says, holding Ryder's gaze. Warm eyes shift with confusion.

 

"Stay?" Ryder blinks. "Where else would I go?"

 

Jaal gestures toward the window. "You, of a scientific mind? The galaxy is yours to navigate. But... the concern in this instance is your fascination with Prodromos. Eos."

 

"I'm impressed with the outpost," Ryder says, his brow furrowed. "That doesn't mean I want to make it my project. Does my sister really think that?" He turns from the window to face Jaal fully. "Do you?"

 

There are many things that Jaal is not. He is not an academic. He is not a firm or true believer in any one thing. He is not a wise man. Above all else, he is no astrocartographer; the constellations woven into Ryder's spirit are uncharted territory, and Jaal is woefully unprepared.

 

Cautiously, quietly, he murmurs, "Your sister once told me that you loved stars from a distance."

 

Ryder's lips part with the absence of words as he looks from Jaal to the inky blackness of space above. Finally, his conflicted expression smooths into something unbearably... sad. "If I could only love from a distance, why would I have come all this way?"

 

"Indeed," Jaal says. Soft. Easy. Floating through a sea of stars. "Why would you."

 

The sigh from Ryder's lips spreads a cloud of condensation over the glass. "I'm not going anywhere," he says, watching Jaal watch him. "I'll tell my sister myself. We're adults, and you're not a message board."

 

Jaal knows dismissal when he hears it, but he finds himself reaching for Ryder's shoulder rather than the door. "I was... also worried. Somewhat. Though, I did not doubt your, ah... constancy until the Pathfinder expressed concern." He squeezes Ryder's shoulder, drawing him back to truly meet Jaal's eyes, so that the weight of his words do not go unnoticed. "I came to speak with you of my own volition. I also wished to convince you to stay, and I am overjoyed to know that you will. Here. With us."

 

He cannot be certain, but it is... quite possible that points on Ryder's face begin to darken.

 

"Um," he says. Then, "Good." Then, "Jaal..."

 

And Jaal could be misreading, so he slowly draws his hand up from Ryder's shoulder to the side of his neck and dips his head a little lower. "Ryder."

 

"Mmhmm?" Ryder hums, cracked and high. Jaal exhales a laugh.

 

"I would be remiss without your presence. I have grown very fond of you."

 

"Yeah?" Ryder asks. Jaal can feel the flutter of a pulse under his hand through the sensors in his glove, a wild staccato. Jaal carefully shifts his body closer.

 

"You are... fascinating. And special. And strange. My spirits are lifted just to be near you. In this era of chaos and unrest, you set my heart at ease." Soft. Easy. Drifting through a sea of stars. Ryder's fingers creep up to curl around Jaal's wrist.

 

"For scientific reasons," Ryder says, breath sweet over Jaal's throat, "do the angara kiss?"

 

Jaal presses his thumb just below Ryder's ear. The sky is dark beyond a wall of glass, as though the whole of the universe is hushed. "For unscientific reasons, would you like to find out?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"He's sweet, and he complimented my wife's Tavum. I approve," says Koana.

 

"Caught Mother here bartering for Milky Way resources to make a human dish for him. _Someone's_ invested," Bavsil hums.

 

"Less mouthy than his sister. Less mouthy than _you,"_ says Teviint. More than her words, their intent is high praise.

 

Finn laughs. "Think we can get an exchange?"

 

"I like him," Lathoul says, and from the reverence in his tone, Jaal can guess exactly how much. And it makes sense; Lathoul and Ryder have strong and gentle hearts, willing but never truly meant for the violence of this galaxy. They are more alike than not. But Jaal isn't worried. Ryder is not... Ryder is himself, and no one else. Jaal's past experience does not define, or even color him.

 

And it is Jaal whom Ryder seeks when he has something to share - feelings or thoughts or Milky Way contraband. It is Jaal who has his focus, his attention, his desire. It is Jaal who knows him down to the blood.

 

"I love him," says Sahuna, earnestly. "Oh, Jaal, he is my favorite."

 

"I thought I was your favorite," he muses over the vid call, a sentiment echoed by at least five others on the line. She disregards them all completely with a fond sigh. "Bring him home again," she entreats. "Soon?"

 

Warmth swells within Jaal's chest. "He would like that, I think. We will try, my mother."

 

"My indulgent son," she sighs again.

 

When the call ends, Jaal feels lighter, in spite of everything. Slowly, but not too slowly, the family of his birth and the family woven together aboard the Tempest begins to converge. How fitting - how right it is that someone like Ryder who has suffered so much and remains star-bright should stand at the focal point of the union with Jaal.

 

He wants to see him. Another bright bloom of warmth bursts in Jaal's heart as he realizes that now... now, he needs no excuse. Jaal stands, hastily shutting down the communication terminal and putting his tools away.

 

He finds Ryder in the galley being bullied by Drack into building a human food construct - a 'sandwich', if Jaal recalls - three times the size of regulation consumption. Jaal could be wrong, but he thinks half of it might be comprised of Ayan ferns.

 

"Oh, Jaal," Ryder says, sagging with relief when he sees him. "Thank god. Tell Drack this isn't viable for human consumption."

 

"You're the squishiest water sack I've ever met," Drack grumbles. "You can't fool me; I've read the reports. All this shit is edible."

 

"Just because you can eat it doesn't meant you should. _Technically_ with enough effort and time, I could eat the Nexus hull."

 

Drack snorts. "Yeah, if someone chewed little bits of it up for you first."

 

"Please don't try," says Jaal. He draws near and examines the sandwich layer by layer, while Ryder and Drack await his verdict. Jaal takes his time, adopting a look of intense concentration. "Hmm. Yes... ah." A tug pulls a brittle slab of dark brown petrified fungus from near the bottom. "This is a delicacy."

 

"See?" Drack prods Ryder in the side with an elbow. Admirably, he only stumbles a little.

 

"- after a simple, natural process. Once it has been eaten and digested by an adhi. The chemicals in its stomach break down and soften the petrified fungi into edible matter. Then you slaughter the adhi and remove its stomach, within which the fungi can be roasted or stewed. Until then..." He drops it to the table where it shatters. "Not even suitable for decoration."

 

"I knew you'd pull through for me," Ryder says, beaming up at Jaal, who can't keep from smiling back.

 

"Of course," he indulges, basking in the glow of Ryder's affection. Then, "The rest, however, is perfectly edible."

 

"Hah!" Drack claps Ryder on the shoulder so firmly his knees buckle. "A bet's a bet, kid. Down the hatch."

 

Ryder's expression falls to one of pure betrayal.

 

"What?" Jaal asks. "He just said you can throw it down a hatch."

 

"Ugh." Ryder presses the sandwich down as flat as possible with the palm of his hand. It doesn't look any better or worse squished. This doesn't seem to hearten him as he lifts it to his mouth. "You're lucky you're so cute."

 

"Aw, shucks." Drack smiles with all his teeth. "Thanks for noticing."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The door to his quarters decompresses and slides open to announce the arrival of a visitor. Jaal looks up from the floor and finds himself faced with a Ryder he was not expecting. From the look on her face, she can tell.

 

“Hey, buddy. Got a minute?”

 

Jaal shifts to a stand, setting his tools aside. “Ah. Pathfinder. I always have time for you.”

 

“Great! Because we’ve got some Milky Way tradition to settle, you and I.”

 

Nodding, Jaal steps closer. “I am intrigued. Please, explain this tradition to me.”

 

She lifts a hand, rotating it in one of her casual humanish gestures as she leans against the doorway. The command center beyond is conspicuously empty. “Nothing to explain, my large friend. Mostly just a formality. It’s just about my brother - yeah, look at you perk up. Here’s the thing… I’ll admit, it’s real cute, he seems pretty happy, and you’re every in-law’s dream. But if you hurt my little brother -”

 

“I adore him,” Jaal blurts. The Pathfinder blinks, and Jaal continues with the momentum her stunned silence has given him. “To cause him distress is… inevitable in our line of work. But harm him? Unthinkable. I would sooner be marooned in black space.”

 

“Huh.” She taps her pursed lips before she points at him. “That was good. Almost too good. Were you studying for this test? Did my brother tell you this was coming?”

 

The corners of Jaal’s mouth twitch. “Such traditions are rare, but not unheard of among the angara. Normally among smaller families. More protective.”

 

“You have a lot of experience, then?” she asks, lowering her eyes to observe her nails with carefully crafted casualness. Jaal snorts.

 

“No.”

 

Her eyes flick back up. “Good. Good!” She pushes herself off of the frame and claps a hand to his forearm. “This is gonna be great. Apparently he’s been talking to your mom a lot. She learned to make pie for him. He _loves_ pie. And he loves her. And he definitely has a thing for your whole… deal.” Backing out the doorway, she gives him a wink and a little pop of an imaginary pistol with her finger. “So don’t fuck it up, big guy. Because I will _definitely_ maroon you in black space.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“This is my favorite place in the universe.” A light mist from the waterfall fills the air with a sweet, clean scent, cool on Jaal’s face in contrast to the warmth of Ryder enfolded in his arms. Jaal presses his cheek to Ryder’s head where it rests against his shoulder. “What’s yours?”

 

A thoughtful sound resonates through the space between them. “I’m not sure,” Ryder says. His fingers follow the seam of Jaal’s glove. “I haven’t seen enough of the universe to know, I think. But… this is probably as close as it gets.”

 

The water from the fall is warm on his bare skin when they step in, and doesn’t cool even as the day makes way for night. It’s even warmer when Ryder guides him below the fall, a torrent of water pounding against his head and shoulders, to a damp alcove within. Ryder’s lips are full from kissing, but still he winds his arms around Jaal’s neck and presses in for more. Effortlessly, Jaal lifts him by the backs of his naked thighs and sets him on a rocky ledge. “I want to devour you,” he all but growls, flattening his palm along the line of Ryder’s spine.

 

“Uh huh,” Ryder agrees. He sounds intoxicated, and Jaal aches. “By all means.”

 

“No, only by one,” Jaal corrects, pushing Ryder back until he lies flat. Jaal follows to take Ryder’s lips again, before moving on to his clavicle, the apex of his chest. He nuzzles the ridges of Ryder’s ribs before sinking his teeth into the meat of his belly. Ryder gasps, laughs breathlessly, cupping the back of Jaal’s head. Jaal moves on.

  
He wants to take him apart.

 

When he puts his mouth to Ryder, something stills him. It disrupts the pace he’s set, but the curiosity at his new discovery is difficult to ignore. Ryder seems to notice, and props himself up on an elbow. “Jaal?”

 

“It is nothing,” Jaal hums, rubbing a finger slowly over gathering wetness. Ryder’s hips jolt. _Fascinating._ “Or… not nothing. The taste is…” He slips the finger past his lips. “Salty. Bitter. Curious.”

 

Ryder blinks, as though dazed. “Um. Yeah.”

 

“I do not dislike it,” Jaal reassures, dragging his tongue over sensitive, alien flesh. Ryder gasps, one of his knees lifting to Jaal’s shoulder, dragging him closer.

 

“Is that - what do angara -”

 

“Sweeter than this. Perhaps a little tart. Or… so I’ve heard.”

 

Ryder swallows, his heel digging into Jaal’s back. He pants, “I think I’d like to see for myself.”

 

“For scientific reasons?” Jaal teases, lifting Ryder’s leg off to push himself up onto the ledge. Ryder moves back to make room.

 

“Definitely, definitely not.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You're not leaving me behind."

 

The Pathfinder flinches beside him, as though startled - a reaction shared by Jaal. They exchange a brief glance before turning toward the doorway. Ryder folds his arms across his chest, suit on. Vetra touches Ryder's arm in silent support before stepping out of the launch bay. Ryder moves aside to let her pass, shifting his gaze between the Pathfinder and Jaal.

 

"Listen -" the Pathfinder starts, but Ryder lifts his chin.

 

"I think I know what you're gonna say, so I'd like to prematurely shut it down. You're not infiltrating Meridian without me."

 

"Taoshay," Jaal entreats quietly, setting his helmet aside to approach Ryder. "My darling one." The resolve behind his eyes flickers, almost indecipherable. But Jaal is an expert on reading those beloved eyes.

 

"Don't try to placate me, please. I'm not a child."

 

Jaal grimaces. "I apologize. It was not my intention to patronize you."

 

"I know." Ryder lifts a hand to the center of Jaal's chest before he turns his eyes to his sister. "But you agreed to the plan."

 

"That's on me, little brother," the Pathfinder insists, stepping forward. "I made the call."

 

"And Jaal didn't tell me," Ryder says, setting his shoulders. "So he agreed with your call. You agreed."

 

Jaal lays a hand upon the fist curled over his heart, for he can think of nothing to assuage Ryder's wounded pride. The Pathfinder folds her arms over her chest.

 

"My decision is final."

 

"The hell it is."

 

The Pathfinder slugs him in the shoulder, not nearly hard enough to knock him away from Jaal. "Don't be an ass. Take a second and think this through -"

 

"Stop treating me like a burden! I won't hold you back. I can carry my weight in a fight, and you know it."

 

"And if it goes tits up for us both, who's left with SAM's implant?"

 

Ryder's eyes shift with hurt. "... Is that what this is about? The preservation of Dad's AI?"

 

"Isn't that worth preserving? Doesn't that matter?" the Pathfinder demands.

 

"Do my feelings matter _less?"_

 

Jaal doesn't know the expression on the Pathfinder's face; he can't take his eyes off of Ryder's. "Dearest heart," he murmurs. The Pathfinder sidesteps her brother to follow Vetra onto the bridge. She has apparently said her piece. Ryder's jaw jumps with tension because he knows what Jaal knows; she won't change her mind.

 

In the privacy of the shuttle bay, he cautiously lowers his brow to Ryder's. Something within him settles when he is not rebuffed. Time and time again, the universe proves to have woven his fate with that of a patient and gracious man.

 

"I'm frustrated with you," Ryder mutters. Jaal closes his eyes.

 

"I know. I've played a part in your distress. And knowing you, you'll forgive me before I forgive myself."

 

Ryder huffs quietly, and thumps Jaal in the side with his free hand. "Don't make me laugh. I'm mad at you."

 

Jaal lifts his head to kiss Ryder's forehead. "Perhaps one day you will forgive me for that too."

 

He releases Ryder's hand to enfold him in an embrace. Ryder heaves a sigh against Jaal's throat, but he melts into the hold.

 

"I want to be with you," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. Jaal's heart breaks with it. "You told me to take you with me always... Jaal, that goes both ways."

 

"You are strong, and noble, and when the stakes are at their highest you do not hesitate to leap. That is what I love about you - it's why I love you as I do." Ryder sniffs, and Jaal holds him closer. "Mh. This too."

 

A short moment later, Kallo announces their ETA, and Ryder makes to dislodge himself from Jaal's arms. Jaal allows it, but doesn't let him go far. He takes Ryder by the hand, meeting his damp eyes fiercely. "I will keep our private line open at all times. You'll be with me, each and every step."

 

The approach of heavy boots draws near, so Ryder nods tightly. "Be careful."

 

"Of course."

 

"Fight well."

 

"I always do."

 

He swallows. "Come back to me in one piece."

 

Reaching up to cup his face, Jaal smiles. "Greedy. Very well. But only because you asked."

 

The kiss Ryder presses to his mouth is hard, desperate, and over just as soon as Vetra and the Pathfinder round the corner. In true angaran fashion, Ryder knocks his sister in the shoulder before locking her in a hug. "You're an asshole," he tells her.

 

The Pathfinder lifts her arms to hold him back. "Yeah," she sighs. "Tell me something I don't know."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The revelation of his origin numbs him throughout. It carries him through the false Meridian and back to the Tempest. It carries him up the walkway and into the bridge. Everything around him is little more than white noise.

 

Somehow he finds himself in his old room. He's surrounded by the familiar - old tools, old tech, what little that hasn't migrated down to Ryder's quarters. The quarters they share. Everything is so familiar, but now... forever changed.

 

He notices sometime later that he's sitting on his old cot. It takes him several moments further to realize he's not alone.

 

Perhaps Ryder's name falls from his lips - he can't be certain. He must say something, because Ryder's head lifts from his shoulder. He speaks, says... something, and Jaal struggles to focus. Ryder seems to understand. He's always understood.

 

Without words, Ryder reaches up to brush his thumb over the scar on Jaal's cheek - the shot from Akksul's gun. There is no clearer evidence of Jaal's resilience, and yet Ryder touches him with a delicacy reserved for flower petals.

 

And there is something in that touch, in the care and the tenderness, that flips a switch in Jaal's mind. It begins to whirr to life again, slowly grinding, but there's something there. Perhaps they were created by fallible entities - a species of scientists, creators of life. Perhaps they were only a well-executed experiment of organic life.

 

But beyond the knowing, how is he changed? The veil has been lifted, but is his life not his own? Are his mothers, his siblings any less real? Has what they as a race - as a people achieved, not evolved into something unique and distinct and awe-inspiring? Is the beat of his heart, and how it loves rendered invalid by his creation? The bond between he and Ryder -

 

"No," Ryder says, cupping Jaal's face within both hands. Jaal's eyes focus on him again, and the intensity in his gaze. "It matters, but not like this."

 

Ah. He must have been thinking aloud. The tension in Ryder's face smooths out.

 

"If it helps," he says, tracing the lines of Jaal's face like something beloved, "we humans came from primordial sea slime. But against all odds... here we are, you and I. In this room. On this ship. In this pocket of the universe. And I love you, wherever you came from, and whatever you will become."

 

"I feel... numb," he confesses, leaning into Ryder's touch. Jaal allows himself to be guided down until they're horizontal on the cot, chest to chest.

 

"That's okay," Ryder says. Primordial sea slime, and a science experiment. "I'll be here when it hurts, and when it heals. Taoshay."

 

A pinprick of light floods Jaal's clouded soul, and he closes his eyes to savor the feeling. This too is real and undiminished by his origin.

 

"That is kind," he says hoarsely, welcoming the darkness, the deeply comforting scent of him when Ryder scoots up to hold Jaal's head his chest. "You are kind."

 

The press of soft lips to his crown is intended to hush him, Jaal knows. At least this time, he heeds it.

 

And when the Pathfinder comes to check on him later, Jaal is not broken. He is awed and excited and humbled by the ways of the universe.

 

But he cannot tell her so just then, for Ryder sleeps against him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Just one more... just... one?"

 

The weakness in Ryder's voice seizes Jaal's heart. He takes out a Remnant with a particularly vicious shot and ducks behind cover next to the Pathfinder.

 

"Can you work no faster?" he snarls, ripping the pin from a grenade and launching it over the barricade. It takes out three bots in one blow, but Jaal's adrenaline and fury leave no room for satisfaction. The Pathfinder bares her teeth.

 

 _"No,_ I thought I'd just take it easy."

 

Jaal lifts his rifle, blasting a Remnant fast approaching over her head. "If you have time for _sarcasm_ -"

 

Ryder's cry of pain echoes through the chamber, louder than the chaos, louder than gunfire. The Pathfinder slams her fist against the last console as it is finished. A wall of silver shifts and flows like waves, and the Archon falls, but Jaal catches no more than a glimpse. The part of him that yearns to revel in the downfall of their oppressor pales against the need to reach -

 

Slumped against a wicked throne, Ryder can barely lift his head when Jaal tears at his restraints, prying them apart with his bare hands.

 

"Jaal," he breathes, and Jaal spares only the barest moment to press a hand to his chest.

 

"Rest now, we have you. Stars be bright for you, taoshay. What you have endured..."

 

"C'mon, damsel," the Pathfinder grunts, joining him not a moment later at Ryder's other side. Sweat drips from her brow to her brother's lap. "Let's get you out of distress."

 

Between the Pathfinder's strength and his own, they manage to walk Ryder out into the light. The air teems with celebration, and Jaal leaves the team to it, aiding Lexi in her escort of him back to the Tempest. When Ryder's legs wobble with the effort to simply stand, Jaal waves Lexi back to lift him.

 

"Always with the heroics," Ryder murmurs, dead weight in Jaal's arms. "Remind me to... to tell you about knights, sometime."

 

"Sometime," Jaal agrees, navigating a makeshift path to the valley. "But not now."

 

"No, not now," Lexi agrees, foraging the path ahead while walking backwards to scan Ryder's vitals. Ryder huffs with amusement. Jaal can't help but share in his good humor as the adrenaline finally begins to lag. Jaal does not dare to bundle him closer, though it is all he'd like to do.

 

"You are amazing."

 

Ryder huffs again. "I was captured."

 

"Yes. I will not soon forget. Even so."

 

The regulated air aboard the Tempest is cooler than outdoors, and with the crew gone, it is silent but for the muted clip of Lexi's boots.

 

"Get him settled while I prep the scanners," Lexi says once they reach Medical, busying herself at the console. Jaal sets Ryder down flat over the bed, smoothing sweat-damp hair from his brow. His skin is clammy, neither hot nor cold, and his eyes are unfocused when he looks at Jaal.

 

"Sorry... to've worried you."

 

"You are forgiven. Resilient, remarkable. My dearest heart."

 

The corners of Ryder's lips twitch before he slips under.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To: Ryder

From: Jaal

 

It has been a week. I ache to speak with you - I miss your wit and your optimism and many, many other subtle and glorious parts of you. But to recover you need rest, and to rest you mustn’t be disturbed, so this will have to suffice.

 

We are thriving, all of us. This world is beautiful and livable, and it’s yours. I hope you wake soon to enjoy it.

 

Attached is an ongoing list of your virtues, which I’ve compiled in the quieter moments of planetary restoration. Even after you wake, be sure to return to it frequently for updates. There will be many, and often, for your merits are unquantifiable. I have the rest of my days to take you apart and find each one.

 

Beloved of my heart, return to me soon.

 

Yours eternally through centuries and stars,

Jaal

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alec Ryder’s quarters aboard the grounded Hyperion are personal, private, and Jaal treads softly in respect. The Pathfinder looks up from the bed when he enters and grins.

 

“Hey,” she says, nudging Ryder’s shoulder. “Special delivery. Large, pink, can’t stop waxing poetic about the future. Marked fragile. Handle with care.”

 

“Jaal,” Ryder sighs, opening his eyes. He looks so tired, but the smile on his face warms Jaal to the core.

 

“Taoshay,” he returns. The Pathfinder stands and stretches.

 

“Well, that’s my cue to dash. Please don’t get naked in our dad’s bed,” she says as she strides past Jaal, patting his shoulder and closing the door behind her.

 

Ryder slides a hand over the sheets, reaching out toward him, and Jaal hastens to obey his silent request. Gingerly, he takes the Pathfinder’s spot on the bed, gathering Ryder’s hand in both of his.

 

“Hey,” Ryder says, breaking the silence. Jaal returns his smile fondly.

 

“You have returned to us.”

 

“Trying to.” Ryder closes his eyes, shifting to make himself more comfortable. Slowly he opens them again, gazing up at Jaal through his eyelashes. “Maybe this is where my true skills lie. Sleeping through all the important stuff.”

 

Jaal’s laughter hums through him like a song. “Perhaps you could try not to hone it quite so sharply. Some of us miss you terribly.” He taps himself on the chest. “I am at the top of the list.”

 

“Mm. Well. Since you asked so nicely.”

 

Jaal plays with the tiny, delicate bones in his hand and tells him of their efforts, their discoveries on Meridian long after Ryder has fallen back asleep. He stays when the Pathfinder comes to check on them, leaving only later when Lexi insists. But before he does, Jaal unclasps the Rofjinn from his throat and lays it over Ryder’s shoulders.

 

“I will be back for this soon,” he tells him though he sleeps, and cards a hand through his hair once more before he allows himself to be dismissed.

 

As the door closes between them, Jaal knows it is only temporary. The future is bright and clear for them both. He will wait for exactly as long as it takes.

**Author's Note:**

> Inquire about fic requests [here!](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/ask)  
> Tumblr: [wardencommando](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/).  
> 


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